


lost forever

by WildKitte



Series: Sylvix P&P AU [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Conversations, Ballroom Dancing, Drabble Collection, Engagement, Epilogue, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sylvain is a fool, theme of this series: sylvain is a fool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24536389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitte/pseuds/WildKitte
Summary: A drabble collection related to'good opinion once lost', a canon-divergent Sylvix P&P AU
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, mention of ashedue
Series: Sylvix P&P AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772455
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	1. the epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the promised follow-up! The first chapter will be an epilogue for ['good opinion once lost'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861260/chapters/57353098), and the rest are "missing scenes", so to speak, inspired by the 2005 movie.
> 
> This chapter was inspired by Lin's wonderful [art](https://twitter.com/qiliin/status/1250207191589687298?s=20)!  
> EDIT: NOW THERE'S [MORE](https://twitter.com/qiliin/status/1269043412050882566?s=19), GO CHECK IT OUT  
> Also a direct quote at the end from the movie.

Blinding unbelievable happiness.

Sylvain never thought he’d get this far. That he’d live, for the love of his life, and conquer, the heart of his beloved. How a rainy day would ruin his life – and a simple letter fix everything. He never thought he’d see the sight of Felix running towards him, feet light on the path leading directly to him; he never thought he’d get to hold these precious hands, to kiss this sweet mouth, to keep his heart this close to his chest.

They’re sitting by the monastery pond. It’s late, and the torches are reflecting against the dark water. The stars up above are twinkling, a light breeze runs through the courtyard, and Sylvain cannot tear his eyes off of Felix.

What a wonder – Felix is looking at him too, stars in his eyes as his gaze maps Sylvain’s face, relearning it over and over again, committing every detail to memory. Their brand-new wedding bands are warm – they haven’t stop holding hands ever since they exchanged their engagement rings, and even if they’ll have to wait for a proper ceremony until after the war, it doesn’t matter. Sylvain can feel it already – the eternity stretching out in front of them. Uncertain maybe, the war isn’t won yet, and there is still the threat of death looming over them. But it’s easy to push down now, easy to let the dark clouds drift by and disappear.

“You’re staring,” Felix says, like a hypocrite, but there is no bite or venom in his voice, more of a soft sigh than any acute observation, the corners of his mouth tugging up with a secretive but content smile.

“I am not,” Sylvain says, like a liar. “I’m just looking.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It’s not,” Sylvain argues. “I don’t have to _stare_ ; I already remember what you look like. I’m _looking_ because I want to.”

Felix chuckles. “Remember what I look like? I sure hope so, now that we’re, uh…” He suddenly gets shy, a blush spreading on his cheeks. “Getting married. Engaged. Whatever.” It’s not, but Sylvain doesn’t need to call it out for the lie it is.

“We’re getting married.” Sylvain’s eyes crinkle with such a happy smile it makes Felix’s cheeks flush even brighter. Sylvain knows he sounds sappy, but what does it matter – he is the happiest man in Fódlan, and he is _engaged with Felix Fraldarius_. “Can you believe?”

“Yes,” Felix says without thinking, and before Sylvain’s smile can spread into a saccharine grin: “But not thanks to you.”

“I believe I was the one who proposed.”

“And I was the one who said _yes_ , idiot.”

“How could I forget,” Sylvain says, and finally he can’t resist any longer – he brushes his thumb across Felix’s cheek, a loving gesture tender in its honesty. Sylvain hopes Felix sees it, _feels_ it – this love that is deep and pure and untainted, this feeling Sylvain has nurtured in him since he was small, the love that grew from affection into something deeper and stronger, something that possessed his heart and soul wholly and completely, until there was no room for anything more than this all-encompassing feeling. Felix’s skin is soft under his thumb and he lingers there, looking, taking it in – happiness, forever and ever, until the end, whatever it may be.

“Sap.” It’s not an accusation, just an undeniable truth. There’s that smile again, the one Sylvain loves so dearly, and he now sees it for what it is, the answer to his own feelings and the devotion as certain as sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening.

“I don’t care,” Sylvain answers. He leans closer, and Felix’s lashes flutter, until their foreheads touch gently. “I love you.”

“Why are you so—” Felix sighs, and then bites his lip, looking Sylvain in the eye. “I love you too. Obviously.”

They stay like that for a moment. Sylvain entwines their fingers carefully, caressing Felix’s hand with his thumb.

The breeze picks up again, fluttering their hair, making ripples across the pond. They should go inside, their bed waiting for them to tangle under the sheets and sleep. But what use is it, to sleep now, when reality is far more wonderful than dreams?

“Am I going to be Mr. Gautier now?” Felix asks then, clearly humoring him.

It’s a tease; but the rush of warmth and happiness catches Sylvain completely unawares, his breath hitching from the emotion.

“Oh. _Oh_. I guess you will.”

Felix smiles. “Well, then,” he says. “One rule.”

“I’m all ears,” Sylvain promises.

“You may only call me Mr. Gautier when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.”

Sylvain laughs. He bumps Felix’s forehead with his own, and then pulls back a bit, tilting his head as he meets Felix’s eyes.

“Mr. Gautier,” he kisses Felix’s forehead, “Mr. Gautier,” his eyelids, “Mr. Gautier,” the tip of his nose, “Mr. Gautier,” the corner of his mouth, “Mr. Gautier—”

Felix pulls him in for a deep kiss, fingers tangling in Sylvain’s hair.

That certainly meets the conditions.

_fin_


	2. the dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Sylvain was still the man he used to be, he would be mingling with all the available girls in the ballroom, flirting left and right, leading multiple partners to the dancefloor, wooing them with silvery and superficial compliments.
> 
> However, his brain has recently been taken over by madness. Yes, madness is the best way to describe it – what else could this be, this feeling that follows his every step and corrupts his waking moments, infiltrates his dreams, denies him of rest and sleep?
> 
> *
> 
> A ballroom scene, set before "good opinion once lost", lots of yearning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. So this is a fun one.  
> Sylvain, for some reason, has become my favourite character to bully incessantly, so have him stewing in some well-earned yearning.  
> This has some hints of AsheDue because they are the ship that _properly_ pulled me into the fe3h pit. They are a little bit based on Jane and Mr. Bingley, if only in the manner that they are in! love!!!
> 
> Thanks to Lin again, for help and laughing at my jokes.
> 
> OH MY GOD LIN MADE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL [ART](https://twitter.com/qiliin/status/1270093410519724035?s=19) OF THIS please enjoy Felix with flowers in his hair

The ball is an indulgence in wartime.

It’s a little frivolous and vain, but professor had reasoned that they deserve a little relaxation and fun even when things are, well, horrible. It would be nice, she had reasoned, to put on some fancy clothes and dance the night away once in a while.

And so they had cleared the ballroom and decorated it fancy – cooks had gone out of their way to whip up something that looked lavish, even if food was still being rationed. For one night they could leave their weapons by the door, for one night they can wash the blood off their hands, for one night there’s no need for tough armour, just dancing, alcohol, and oblivion.

If Sylvain was still the man he used to be, he would be mingling with all the available girls in the ballroom, flirting left and right, leading multiple partners to the dancefloor, wooing them with silvery and superficial compliments.

However, his brain has recently been taken over by madness. Yes, madness is the best way to describe it – what else could this be, this feeling that follows his every step and corrupts his waking moments, infiltrates his dreams, denies him of rest and sleep?

“You’re staring,” Ingrid says.

“I am not,” Sylvain says, staring at Felix.

“If you were a smart and sensible person, you could just court him,” Ingrid remarks.

“I agree,” Dimitri pipes up, and Sylvain glares at him, too scared to glare at Ingrid.

They are serving as wall flowers, the four of them – or at least Sylvain is, recent flirt turned madman, and Ingrid and Dimitri are keeping company.

“He would never let me,” he hisses back. “He thinks I’m just a stupid serial dater!”

“He does,” Ingrid agrees, “and you are.”

“See! He would never take me seriously and just get angry. I want to at least preserve our friendship,” Sylvain huffs, crossing his arms.

“You could still ask him to dance with you,” Ingrid says, nudging him with her elbow, sharp and precise between his ribs.

“…I’m too nervous,” Sylvain mumbles, trying to keep his face straight while holding his side.

Ingrid and Dimitri exchange a glance.

“Incredible,” Ingrid shakes her head, and offers a hand to Dimitri. “Now, will _you_ dance with me?”

“W-With pleasure,” Dimitri stutters and stumbles behind her as Ingrid leads them to the sea (or rather a pond) of dancing people, almost colliding with Ashe and Dedue who are busy gazing longingly into each other’s eyes.

Madness – whenever Felix is near, or far, it’s in the longing in his heart and the emptiness of his useless arms. There is no joy in flirting anymore, no spite in him to philander himself around to fill that hole in his chest. All of it centers around Felix – his feelings, his thoughts, his everything. And yet he is useless – his tongue becomes lead in his mouth, and he can’t stop fumbling on every sentence, can’t seem to shake off the awkwardness or the stiffness of his limbs. He never used to be like this – being around Felix used to be easy as breathing, it was effortless to swing an arm over his shoulders and hold him close, tease him until he flushed red with fury.

Now he’s just a pining idiot. A lovesick fool. A clown without his circus. So instead he stands here vigilant, guarding the buffet table filled to brink with pastries and wine, watching over the dancefloor, eyes fixated on the single radiant light stoking the embers in his chest.

Felix is dancing with Annette, twirling her around and then catching her with his strong and steady hands. Annette is laughing, and Felix, well.

It has developed recently – this secretive smile.

Sylvain is certain he would have been aware of it, had it been there before. But recently, he has taken notice of this expression that occasionally graces Felix’s usually sour face – a rare, but therefore even more blinding smile. It starts with a twinkle in his eye and then spreads to the slightest twitch of his mouth and climbs into an enigmatic smile like the sun rising from beneath the horizon at the earliest hour.

Sylvain has no idea what to do with it – he certainly has no weapons against it, for he finds that when in the presence of this new curiosity, his entire body freezes, as a sudden well of warmth constricting his chest spread all over his body, and he can only stumble in his thoughts and words, unable to express himself. And just like the sun on a cloudy day, this smile would be there for just a second, barely enough to notice, and then hiding behind the clouds just as Felix relaxes back to his trademark frown.

Tonight it seems to come easy to him – the smile, twinkle in his eyes as Annette says something to him that makes him laugh, and something grabs Sylvain’s heart in his chest and _squeezes_ , digging its claws in until it really hurts.

He’s not jealous. He’s not allowed to be. Annette is a sweet girl and Felix can dance with whomever he likes. But something in Sylvain tugs towards him, an ache that forms into _I want it to be me you look at, I want you to see me_ , and he has to tear his eyes away.

Instead he turns to the sweet wine and hopes it will aid in his search of oblivion.

He’s almost forgotten himself in wall-flowering again, when a voice materializes from his right:

“There you are.”

It’s Felix. Sylvain almost jumps out of his skin, and sways a little, his head dizzy and tipsy. He’s on his third cup of wine, and despite sipping carefully and slowly, it’s starting to affect him.

“H-Hi,” he stutters out. His mouth feels so dry suddenly, and he tries to find something to look at other than Felix, because he’s afraid he’ll take one look at him and profess his feelings for everyone to see, brought to his knees by Felix’s beauty. _Such beautiful flower decorations_ , he tries to convince himself and strikes an awkward pose, still swaying in place.

Felix squints his eyes at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Sylvain swallows, and aims for a charming chuckle, but it comes out as weak laughter instead.

“Nothing, why would anything be wrong with me?” He almost winces at how unnatural his voice sounds – Felix _will_ notice, and Sylvain will make a fool out of himself.

“Just that,” Felix says, peering at him closer. “You’re doing the whole,” he waves at Sylvain’s everything “nervous jittery thing.”

“I’m just uh—” Sylvain tries to think of an excuse, “I’m just really tired. Just… can’t catch a break around here.”

Felix tilts his head suspiciously for a moment, glancing at the half-full cup in his hand, but then seems to let it go, as he sighs and relaxes his shoulders, leaning to the wall.

“I don’t blame you. It’s been a long couple of months.”

“It’s been a long life,” Sylvain agrees, and Felix hums, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sylvain’s stomach turns into a swarm of butterflies at the sight. Felix is gorgeous, with the cut of his suit, flowers in his hair, and Sylvain loves him with all of his stupid heart, which is why he’s acting so _stupid_.

“Tell me about it.” Felix’s hand goes up to fuss with his hair. It’s perfectly fine, _please don’t mess up the flowers_ , Sylvain wants to reassure him, but is distracted by a lonely strand of hair that he desperately wants to brush behind Felix’s ear. “But it’s nice, to have something like this.” Felix then seems to perk up all of a sudden. “Which reminds me – why aren’t _you_ dancing with anyone? I thought you’d be all over the girls here.”

 _Fuck_ , is all Sylvain’s brain offers him as response.

“Even I danced with people,” Felix continues, raising his brow, and it does things to Sylvain’s already overworked heart.

Sylvain tries furiously to think up something to say.

“You’ve _only_ danced with Annette tonight,” he says then, and wants to bite his tongue – that was not what he wanted to ask. But it’s out now, and his idiot mouth continues: “That’ll give something for the gossip mill to mull over, huh?”

Felix’s cheeks flush, and he turns his head away with a pout, crossing his arms defensively.

“There aren’t many tolerable partners here,” Felix grumbles.

 _I would dance with you all night if you would let me, just to hold you in my arms and sweep you off your feet_ , Sylvain thinks.

What comes out instead is:

“I think you’re hardly tolerable.”

 _Goddess,_ he hates himself.

Felix’s mouth drops open.

“Wow,” Felix says. “Alright. Thanks.”

“I didn’t—” Sylvain tries, but Felix waves him off, irritated.

“Some shining knight you are,” he huffs, almost incredulous, and fixes Sylvain with a cold stare. “I guess I don’t need to bother asking you. Have a nice night.” He flicks his fringe with a minute movement, a couple petals floating off, and then marches back to the crowd, beelining to Dorothea who greets him with a warm smile and takes the hand he offers to her with obvious delight.

Sylvain just stands there and feels like an idiot – especially when Dorothea meets his eye over Felix’s shoulder and winks, before engaging in what seems to be a cheerful conversation with her partner.

“Well done there,” comes a voice from his left – it’s Ashe, picking up a drink and joining his brooding by the sidelines. “Considering the kind of person you are, you’re becoming an expert at dropping the ball completely when it comes to Felix.”

Sylvain groans and fusses with his hair, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Ashe, how come you are a sweetheart with everyone else and then such a meanie with me?”

“You are very easy to tease,” Ashe sips his drink pointedly.

“I’m going to tell everyone what a menace you are.”

“They will never believe you,” Ashe giggles, swaying to the music, passively participating in the dance even now. Sylvain clutches his chest in mock-agony.

“You’re tormenting me, you cruel-hearted creature.”

At least it makes Ashe laugh, so he’s still good for _something_.

“I just don’t understand why you act so stupid around him.” Truly an archer – Ashe shoots him down immediately, and this time Sylvain doesn’t have to pretend the chest-clutching, the arrow has found its mark. “He’s your friend. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Do you want them alphabetically?”

“It was mostly a rhetoric question.”

Sylvain moves for another cup of wine, but Ashe picks the cup out of his hands.

“Hey!”

“You’ve had quite enough,” Ashe says, and then downs it in one go. Sylvain frowns at him, hoping it will make Ashe feel bad. It doesn’t, but they can’t accuse him of not trying to defend himself.

Ashe puts Sylvain's cup down on the table and then levels Sylvain with a serious expression. “Why don’t you just try _something_ instead of just yearning after him from afar and being a dick to the people who want to help you.” His gaze shifts to a softer one, his green eyes filled with such empathy that it makes Sylvain’s stomach flip. “Just… do something. It’s Felix. If it’s from you… I think it would be alright if you opened yourself up a little bit. Let your feelings show, and maybe he’ll answer in kind.”

“So what do you recommend, then? To encourage affection?” Sylvain asks, now slightly irritable.

Ashe grins.

“Dancing. Even if one’s partner is hardly tolerable.”

As Sylvain sputters, Ashe pats his shoulder and pushes his own empty cup in Sylvain’s hands. “I’m going to find Dedue now and encourage his affection with one more dance. Maybe try a sonnet next time.”

And with that he springs away, leaving Sylvain to stew in his humiliation.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PATS SYLVAIN
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcome!
> 
> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@wildkitte](http://wildkitte.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This series will have only three chapters for now (second chapter coming this weekend if I have the time to edit it), but there might be more if inspiration strikes. If there's something you really would like to see in this series, suggestions are always welcome (so hmu on twitter)!
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated :3
> 
> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@wildkitte](http://wildkitte.tumblr.com/)


End file.
